Lost Causes
by Ditey
Summary: Words that are never said, he thinks, hurt more than any that ever have.


A/N: Guess who's back? Back again? Ditey's back! Tell a friend! (Guess who's back...nyah nyah nyah..) So I finally decided to get back into the groove of everything, and hopefully I haven't lost it. If I have, you must tell me ;) It's so great to be back. And you know what? It's been too long.   
He notices her without meaning to.   
  
He wants back the class time he should be using to actually learn something. He is failing History, all because of that golden hair and its accompanying scent. Not that he smells her hair or anything, because that would be just a little wierd.  
  
Okay, so he's a little wierd.   
  
He stakes out in the music room, skipping P.E (not that anyone would notice him gone anyway). He watches her dance. He loves her pirouttes. He likes how she looks like an angel when she floats on the stage. He wishes she was his angel.   
  
He remembers when he used to come to her performances. He'd watch from backstage. And after, he'd give her a big thing of flowers. And after a week, he'd just smile to see them dried and pressed in between her Chemistry textbooks in her locker.   
  
They had the same Honors classes. He doesn't anymore...partly because of something he can't explain, and because of the distractions mentioned before. It's very hard to try and calculate the cosine of a triangle when she was right behind him, sighing wistfully.  
  
Not because of him, but the test. At least, he thought so.   
  
Or...someone else. Oh, yeah. *Him*.   
  
Is it any secret that he resents him sometimes? He really shouldn't, he keeps telling himself, because the other guy never even did anything wrong.   
  
Except capture Amy's love.  
  
He can see it happening. He has seen it evolve. From the first, 'I don't know if I can' murmurs, to her full adoration of him. From her indecisive rambles to those long, long looks when she thinks no one is watching.  
  
He's usually watching. He's always watching. Even if he won't admit it, because it reminds him of a stalker in one of those stupid thriller movies.   
  
But he feels like something similar, moronically lamenting about her. He was supposed to be working on his Powerpoint presentation about the Soviet Union under Stalin. Not that he could get past the title page; the neurotic animation box was not helping. He considers asking the person next to him for help, like why an animated paper clip is talking to him, if it wasn't Amy.  
  
He feels vulnerable, so close to her like this. He feels like he has no protection, his usual stoic eyes will melt when he needs them most.   
  
He has never felt in control of anything, not even the way he feels around her. He has never had a choice, not even with her. And he could not escape. Especially with her.   
  
It pains him that nothing comforts him anymore. He is past the point where he would ask himself if he was depressed. He is, he realizes, from the moment he opened his eyes. He has heard the words 'lost cause' applied so many times to him, not to his face, but that is often the worst kind. He knows he can ignore people like Kayla, who he knows has no substance past what she says.   
  
But worst, is what he knows Amy thinks. He knows Amy is so much more than her loyal followers. He may be biased, for she was placed on a gold pedestal before she took the chance to walk on ground. But words that are never said, he thinks, hurt more than any that ever have.   
  
His eyes subconsciously dart to her, on his right-hand side. He takes a moment to study her, and is glad she does not notice, because she would really think he was a stalker freak from those thriller movies. She begins to laugh, crescendoing with her head tilted up, her mouth in an open smile and her hand lying two inches away from the guy that made her laugh so uproariously.  
  
Not that he takes into account how far away her hand is from him.  
  
But it is hard not to take into account how she looks into his blue eyes before she returns to her computer screen, or the side glances she gives while typing.   
  
He wishes he knew what made her laugh so hard, so he could say it to her and perhaps recieve the same playful touch. He wishes she would look into his eyes and pretend not to. He wishes she...would get so sidetracked by his prescence, she would type his name into her document by accident before backspacing, embarassed.  
  
He is soon at his breaking point. He wants to restrain himself, but the thoughts flood his mind faster than he can usher them out.  
  
Because he knows what she thinks whenever she is around him.   
  
That she's kinda stuck with him, like a cute puppy that she has to take for a walk. Perhaps not even cute? He can't tell.   
  
He knows that every moment Amy spends with him, she wishes was with the person that could make her laugh.  
  
He knowns that she's a little ashamed to show how much she loves the other guy, because if anyone knew, she would lose the respect in the social hierarchy that took her three years to achieve. She would be branded another mindless, love-sick prep, in love with someone that is not worth it. Someone she should have given up on a long time ago.   
  
He wishes he didn't have to know all this, but it is the pitfall of being so perceptive. He hopes that maybe the more time they spend together again, the less these thoughts will enter her mind. He thinks that if she got to know him again, he could make her fall in love with him. He prays that he will someday be satisfied with whatever half she devotes to him, when the rest is daydreaming about someone else.  
  
But he's done everything short of wishing on a shooting star, which he tried but discovered impossible because of the orbits of stars and things he learned in Astronomy, that they would never shoot across Everwood's sky.  
  
"Amy?" he whispers, gently taking hold of her hand.  
  
"Yeah?" she asks, distantly, while trying to make a title spiral out and rid her minds of thoughts of the guy sitting next to her, still silent.  
  
"I need to talk to you."  
  
"Okay..." She is a little annoyed by his seriousness. She still has a hangover from the previous joke. She smiles at the thought.  
  
"Outside?" She gives him a quizzical look, but smiles nonetheless. She shivers when his hand runs behind her chair, make believing they are someone else's hands.   
  
They retreat into the hallowed hallway. Amy is a little disturbed, thinking that maybe he is trying to ditch school for some romantic interlude, since he is, after all, her boyfriend. The title is somewhat ironic, because after he had gotten out of the coma, love is the no longer what she feels for him. She is unresponsive when he takes a step closer, silently hoping he will not try and kiss her, because his kisses no longer compare. But she figures she will probably do what she usually does, pretending she is somewhere else, not with her 'perfect' boyfriend that really is not, that is it not his hands, not his lips. She will make believe it is Ephram's.  
  
She breaks out of her thought to return. He is looking at her intently. She feels uncomfortable under Colin's gaze because it is so icy, so she is grateful he soon removes it.  
  
"What is it, Colin?" she asks, taking a step forward.   
  
Colin opens his mouth, after hesitation, and begins to speak.  
-Fin-  
  
Dedicated to Ivy aka Singcraz  
Because you really are the best  
A/N: So, what do you think of the twist? Not confusing, right? I hope this wasn't too wierd, because I must confess, there was a lot of Claritin in my blood stream when writing. But, input is always great. Please review! That button is so lonely without your cursor to grace its prescence! 


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